


Wind and Rain and Weary Bones

by erisgregory, lonniek



Series: Spastic, Bombastic, and Utterly Delectable [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: AIM chat, Everyone Is Alive, M/M, POV Derek, Stiles in college AU, except for Derek's family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-13
Updated: 2015-05-13
Packaged: 2018-03-30 09:09:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,189
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3931165
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/erisgregory/pseuds/erisgregory, https://archiveofourown.org/users/lonniek/pseuds/lonniek
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Eris and I wrote the actual chat conversation when I couldn't sleep the other night so I took it and turned it into fic. Derek would never admit it to you, but he really hates storms, and when the storm of the decade hits Beacon Hills, Stiles is the only one awake and online at 3 am.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wind and Rain and Weary Bones

Derek watched lightning split open the sky between the sheets of rain that pelted against the windows of the loft. When he heard the thunder crash, he jumped and his skin crawled. It happened again moments later, and Derek slammed his knee into his desk as his body jerked. He knew what they would all say: Derek, the high and mighty, toppled by a simple thunderstorm. But he’d never liked them. The rain he could handle, but the mighty wind and the thunder cracking through the air was more than he was comfortable with. It felt like at any moment the sky would open up and swallow him whole.

When the next bolt of lightning struck so close that Derek could see individual tendrils of light from the window and the thunder shook his house, he opened his laptop and put on the loudest music that he could find. With classical violins screeching through the house, Derek opened up his messenger program and scrolled through the list of names in his contact list. Most of them were dark. They would be, at damn near three am, but there was one name with a green dot still lit up next to it.

Stiles. Or, more specifically, Stilemeister007.

Derek sighed and groaned internally. Stiles would annoy the hell out of him, but the irritation would be a good distraction from the thunder that clapped in the background, taunting him. Resigned, Derek double clicked the name and watched as the chat bubble popped up.

> **D. Hale** : Stiles. It’s almost 3 am. On a Tuesday. What the hell are you still doing up? Don’t you have…responsibilities or something?

Not a minute later did the responding ping sound on full blast through the speakers. Wincing, Derek cut down the music to just under ear-splitting and read the reply.

> **Stilemeister007** : Uh, yeah, responsibilities to kick Scott’s ass on this stupid game he got me hooked on. Next time he logs on he’s going to eat his words!  
>  **Stilemeister007** : Why are you up? Hmmm?

Instantly Derek was filled with regret for his decision to chat with someone whose very nature was to put him on edge. Especially when he was already on edge. But ending the conversation now would only unleash holy hell.

> **D. Hale** : Video games with Scott? Really, Stiles; on a school night? I should’ve guessed.  
>  **D. Hale** : And I’m doing research. It’s nothing.  
>  **D. Hale** : Don’t worry about it.

Lightning filled the sky and Derek gasped at how bright it was, how similar the color of lighting reflected in his computer screen was to fire.

> **D. Hale** : Um, what game?  
>  **Stilemeister007** : It’s not a video game! It’s a MMORPG. Okay wait we have to back up a couple of steps before I get sucked down the rabbit hole that is trying to explain this game. Go back to where you tell me not to worry and ask yourself how well that has worked for you in the past.

Derek groaned. Stiles was incorrigible.

> **D. Hale** : It’s nothing, really.  
>  **D. Hale** : What the hell is an MMORPG? Are you sure that’s real?  
>  **Stilemeister007** : Oh jesus. A Massively Multiplayer Online Roleplaying Game. It’s called Bloodline Champions and Scott got me hooked on it four days ago. But that is so beside the point because you’re hedging around something. What’s up?

Derek shook his head, but smiled despite himself as he read Stiles’ explanation, especially the fact that while he’d capitalized every other word in the damn sentence, he’d left the sweet baby Jesus without a capital letter.

> **D. Hale** : What? So hundreds of other geeks are just as obsessed with this thing as you are? God, and to think you and Scott have survived this long.  
>  **D. Hale** : I’m not hedging, Stiles; you’re prying.  
>  **Stilemeister007** : Low blow man. I’m not prying!

He was so easy to goad.

> **Stilemeister007** : Okay I am prying, but it does worry me so I am asking.  
>  **Stilemeister007** : Nicely  
>  **Stilemeister007** : with all my nice not pushy words.  
>  **Stilemeister007** : Like please.

The insistent pinging of the computer through the speakers was grating, and begrudgingly, Derek cut off the music and the speakers entirely. As soon as he did, thunder rumbled through the loft so hard that the floors shivered while the glass in the window rattled at the wind accosting it.

> **D. Hale** : Jesus Christ, Stiles, it’s storms! I’m researching storm patterns at 3 am on a Tuesday because—  
>  **D. Hale** : You know what? No. That’s it. That’s what I’m doing.  
>  **D. Hale** : Happy?

Derek huffed at his computer screen, but clutched his hand around the mouse so tightly he would be worried about it breaking if he could focus on anything other than the reply he saw coming.

> **Stilemeister007** : Okay, okay. Hey, I just want to be sure I don’t have to rush home and save your ass. I have a paper due in two days so. Yeah.  
>  **Stilemeister007** : Storm patterns, huh? Been storming a lot out there?

For half of a second, Derek had allowed himself to forget that Stiles wasn’t in Beacon Hills, but in the next town over, at school. Making something of his life outside of supernatural scavenger hunts and endangering his life at every possible moment.

> **D. Hale** : Tch, you rushing to save the day? I can take care of things just fine, you know.  
>  **D. Hale** : Storms have been on and off for about a week now. Tonight is the worst of it so far.  
>  **D. Hale** : You have to be getting at least some of it, don’t you?  
>  **Stilemeister007** : I know, I just like to ruffle those grumpy feathers of yours. I would come if you needed me, though. And I’d look into whatever if you wanted a second opinion or something.  
>  **Stilemeister007** : Oh yeah, it’s been going pretty good this past week.  
>  **Stilemeister007** : You think it’s supernatural?

Among all of the conversation that they were having, Derek almost let it slide that Stiles was trying to call him a fun-sucking grouch. Almost.

> **D. Hale** : I do not have “grumpy feathers”.

He started typing again, but and Stiles’ reply popped up just as he hit enter on his own.

> **Stilemeister007** : Excuse me. Grumpy fur.  
>  **D. Hale** : I don’t think so. They’ve been talking about it on the news for a while: storm of the decade. I just…was looking into when it would clear out.

Derek made a pained noise and scrubbed his face with his left hand. He hoped the voracity with which he typed out the boy’s name would make itself known through the other side of the keyboard.

> **D. Hale** : Stiles…  
>  **Stilemeister007** : I can totally hear that disdain. But you smiled too, right?  
>  **Stilemeister007** : Just a little?

Derek could feel the smirk on his face while he read and rolled his eyes. Stiles was a lot of things, but he wasn’t stupid.

> **D. Hale** : I would never give you the satisfaction of an answer.  
>  **Stilemeister007** : No need, I’m already pretty sure you’re over there smirking at your screen. Makes a guy feel good to have such an obvious effect on someone.

No, he wasn’t stupid; Stiles was too damn perceptive for his own damn good.

> **D. Hale** : Good night, Stiles.  
>  **Stilemeister007** : I think the storms are supposed to clear out by the weekend, if that helps?  
>  **Stilemeister007** : Ass.

Lightning cast a glare over the screen for a moment while Derek typed, and he managed to get about ten words into his reply when the thunder threw off his train of thought.

> **D. Hale** : Me? Ass? You’re the one who thinks his dumb jokes are funny. Nobody laughs at their own jokes except assholes.  
>  **D. Hale** : Thanks. That helps, some, I guess. Maybe.  
>  **Stilemeister007** : Smart assholes. Funny assholes.  
>  **Stilemeister007** : What’s really going on, Derek? Come on, I’ll behave.

The wind bellowed against the glass, and somewhere Derek heard a seal in the window lining slip, because the wind started to howl into his room. Derek shuddered, refusing to get out of his seat to deal with it. He didn’t want to be at the window when the next lightning bolt came through the window and hit him.

> **D. Hale** : If you breathe a word of this to anyone I will track you down and I will strangle you and I will make it look like an accident.  
>  **Stilemeister007** : Oh kay. Got it. Keepin this on the down low.

How was he always so nonchalant? Derek rolled his shoulders, unable to do blasé with the same ease that Stiles was. It would have amazed him if it didn’t drive him absolutely insane.

> **D. Hale** : I mean it, Stiles.  
>  **D. Hale** : Not even to Scott. Especially not to Scott.  
>  **Stilemeister007** : Okay, now I’m worried again. I won’t tell anyone. You can trust me, Derek.

And Derek knew that he could. For all of his insufferable qualities, Stiles was one of the people that Derek would trust with his life. Not that he would ever let Stiles know that.

> **D. Hale** : It’s nothing. I just…don’t like storms.  
>  **D. Hale** : Very much.  
>  **D. Hale** : At all.

Derek cracked his knuckles and waited for the ridicule. But it didn’t come.

> **Stilemeister007** : That’s not nothing. A lot of people don’t like them, you know.  
>  **D. Hale** : Yeah, well. Most people aren’t terrified of them.  
>  **D. Hale** : Shaking glass, trembling in the house, the rolling thunder, howling wind, sheeting rain.  
>  **D. Hale** : And in the loft, there’s a lot of extra space for the noise to echo.

As if to prove a point, the wind started up again. It sounded like it would break down the window if it was the last thing it did, and Derek believed in that wind’s power.

> **D. Hale** : To be honest, I haven’t slept in a week.

Derek’s eyes widened as he read what he’d typed. He couldn’t believe that he was so wrecked by some rain that he was spouting off at the mouth.

> **Stilemeister007** : Oh man. And this one just lasts and lasts. I am so sorry.  
>  **D. Hale** : I don’t need your pity. It’s just a fact. I’ve never liked them.  
>  **Stilemeister007** : That’s not pity. That’s just, empathy.  
>  **D. Hale** : Semantics.  
>  **Stilemeister007** : All right. I hear you. Don’t want to seem like I’m looking down on you, because I’m not. How about I even the score and tell you one of my fears. Something you don’t know?

Derek tried to think of something that he didn’t know about Stiles. The revelation that he could recall so much about the boy with stunning detail and clarity unnerved him.

> **D. Hale** : It’s not just about the fear. When I was a kid my sisters would let me stay with them and they would put on music and tell stories until the rain stopped. But now…well, obviously they can’t do that anymore.  
>  **D. Hale** : Whatever, yes, tell me one of your fears?

Anything. Anything to get the picture of him, small and afraid but comforted out of his head.

> **Stilemeister007** : I hate hospitals. I am terrified of them. Of going in and never coming out. And they smell like antiseptic and sick people and every time I have to walk in I feel sick.

Huh.

> **D. Hal** e: But aren’t you always there? To their talk or lie to Scott’s mom to bail him out?

Derek started connecting dots inside of his head, mapping pieces of Stiles together and so involved that he hardly jumped at the thunder as it rolled by.

> **Stilemeister007** : Yeah, I mean that’s sort of why I’m telling you that. Literally no one else knows. And if Scott has a clue he keeps it to himself.

Derek typed carefully, as if Stiles might break if he touched the keys too hard.

> **D. Hale** : It’s because of your mom.  
>  **D. Hale** : Right?  
>  **D. Hale** : I read the files a while ago. After the run in with the nogitsune.

Derek backspaced his original thought and replaced it with the bit about the nogitsune. Unspoken was the fear that Derek was going to lose Stiles.

> **D. Hale** : I’m sorry. Having a best friend with a nurse for a mom must be difficult.  
>  **Stilemeister007** : Huh. Yeah. Yes, she was in and out a lot before she just, never came back out. But I’m not trying to like, compare our losses or whatever. I just wanted you to know that. I wouldn’t judge you or look down on you for what you told me.  
>  **Stilemeister007** : Some days are better. I keep myself distracted a lot when I go see her. And I think she on some level gets it. She may not know, but she always keeps things short when possible.  
>  **Stilemeister007** : That thing with the nogitsune, that really…fucked me up for a while. But I think you know that.

The uncertainty in Stiles’ last message hung over Derek like a fog, smothering him in it and the guilt of every single time Derek had forced Stiles to go to the hospital for one thing or another.

> **D. Hale** : Yeah, Stiles. I know.  
>  **D. Hale** : I, uh…  
>  **D. Hale** : You didn’t have to tell me all that.

Before he changed his mind, Derek hit enter.

> **D. Hale** : Storms were okay when I was younger. With family and people in the house. It’s, uh…eerie how similar wind beating a window sounds to the rush of fire.  
>  **D. Hale** : So, yeah. Now we’re even.

There was a brief silence on Stiles’ side as he typed, nearly echoed in the storm. The wind calmed and there was no lightning for a full two minutes. The only constant was the downpour of rain: static, white noise.

> **Stilemeister007** : I wanted you to feel safe talking to me. I want you to feel like…like it’s okay if you need to talk, okay? And to know that I’m not judging you, ever. Or looking down on you. I have so much respect for you, dude, it’s not funny. I know I tease you a lot, but we are friends, right? We’re pack.

Derek smiled despite himself, in spite of the fact that Stiles called him dude. In truth, Scott and Stiles were the whole reason that Derek felt like he was alive again, but it was Stiles who had given him his spark back, a reason to have attitude and confidence. _That’s a terrifying thought_.

> **D. Hale** : Yeah, we’re friends. I didn’t have friends. Or pack. For a long time. I forgot. How to talk to people.  
>  **D. Hale** : Look, uh, this doesn’t have to be a touchy feely thing or anything. I…thanks.

But it was touchy feely. Derek groaned as everything started to fall apart, fall into place.

> **Stilemeister007** : Sure, I know, crossing into no-man’s-land there. Anytime. Please. Okay? And if it gets too heavy you can just go back to being gruff and I’ll go back to teasing you and you can call me an asshole, because let’s be real, I totally am one.

The whine of the wind returned, more insistent, and thunder growled louder, almost as if it were trying to force Derek to pay attention to it over Stiles. But he hardly heard it.

> **D. Hale** : You’re not.  
>  **D. Hale** : An asshole. Not really.  
>  **D. Hale** : Well, sometimes.  
>  **D. Hale** : Damn it, Stiles.  
>  **Stilemeister007** : Go back to where I’m not an asshole. I liked that. I might need a screenshot of that.

Derek growled at the screen. He was trying to find a way to say this eloquently, but Stiles was making jokes.

> **D. Hale** : You’re not pack.

_Fuck_. The type-o stared him in the face and he knew that Stiles had read it. Quickly, he corrected himself.

> **D. Hale** : Er  
>  **D. Hale** : You’re not just pack.  
>  **Stilemeister007** : Okay. Um. Okay.

Derek ignored him, soldiered on.

> **D. Hale** : And I’m not…I don’t want to be your _friend_. I trust you. Do you know how rare that really is?  
>  **D. Hale** : You’re human. I don’t…I can’t understand you at all. But I do anyway.  
>  **Stilemeister007** : Okay, be real specific with me here, Derek, because I feel like I lost the thread a couple of replies back.

Derek dropped his head onto the desk with a satisfying thud. The wood creaked under the impact, but didn’t split.

> **D. Hale** : What? Jesus, how?  
>  **Stilemeister007** : I don’t know we’re not pack but you trust me and we’re not friends and…just say it so I stop imagining what you mean.

No, no, no. Stiles was reading everything backward. Derek sighed, sat up, began again.

> **D. Hale** : You’re human. By all rights you shouldn’t be pack. You should be Scott’s weird, obsessive friend who is always around and constantly, constantly talking. And you are. But I trust you. So you’re pack.  
>  **D. Hale** : You’re not just Scott’s weird, obsessive friend. Maybe I like you, too. But not like Scott likes you. He insists you’re like brothers. And that’s…almost definitely probably not how I feel.  
>  **D. Hale** : Come on, Stiles, help me out here.

If Stiles wanted crass or rude conversation, wanted to be snubbed, Derek could oblige in a heartbeat. But this, this opening himself up thing was terrible.

> **Stilemeister007** : You want more. You want us to be more? Please say that’s it, because if it’s not I’m going to feel really stupid.  
>  **Stilemeister007** : I want more, too. I have for a long time.  
>  **Stilemeister007** : Shit I hit enter before you answered me.

Stiles’ screw-up saved Derek from having to think of a reply immediately. Instead, he did what he knew would work: he hedged.

> **D. Hale** : You have?  
>  **D. Hale** : Since when?

Derek held his breath, exhaled slowly as he read what Stiles had to say.

> **Stilemeister007** : Yes, for like. Always. I thought everyone must smell it all over me all the time, but Scott said all of us kind of just smell like hormones and jerking off anyways so, and that was off point. But yes. I just didn’t think you were interested so I had to be not interested too. And I had to like, graduate and all of that and then, I just, though, we were friends, so why screw it up by saying something?

Derek allowed himself a small chuckle.

> **D. Hale** : I…not no. Just, the last person I tried to date ended up trying to kill us. So I thought I could just avoid the whole thing all together. But then you never shut up. Even when I would glare at you. Even when I would physically threaten you. You just talked. Nobody talks to me. Not like you do.  
>  **D. Hale** : And he’s right. You two always smell like hormones and teenage masturbation. Well, except Scott also smells like Allison. Mostly you just smelled like jerking off.

Derek could practically feel Stiles blushing across the computer and he sat back, feeling just a little bit triumphant in that.

> **Stilemeister007** : You really aren’t as scary as you think. But uh, right, we can move past that part, the jerking off thing, and go back to, like I get it. You were sort of in the not dating place and I was sort of in the not humiliating myself place, but where are we now?  
>  **D. Hale** : Well, I’m in Beacon Hills trying to ignore the thunder. Where are you?  
>  **Stilemeister007** : Okay. I am chatting with you from one town over, because my score in this game is high enough that Scott’s going to be so pissed tomorrow. Other than that I sort of don’t know now.  
>  **D. Hale** : Well, then I guess we’re in the same place.

It pained Derek to type what he said next, and he shivered as the thunder underscored his uncertainty.

> **D. Hale** : Everyone I love dies, Stiles. Usually violently. Typically murder. I don’t…won’t bring that on you.

It took everything in Derek’s power not to shut off the computer, not to end the conversation and never bring it up again.

> **Stilemeister007** : Oh man, I suddenly feel like we need to be talking in person. Because, if I thought for a second that you really wanted me, that you felt what I feel, it would take a lot for me to stay away. If you really can’t, like deep down you just can’t, then I’ll try and respect that, but Derek, I’m always in the thick of things anyway. You know that. I’m exactly where I want to be and I know exactly what the risks are.  
>  **D. Hale** : Which is so stupid! You could die! What am I supposed to do if you die? What’s the point, then? I…you’re always gonna be around until you being in the middle puts you in real danger. I worry about it enough as it is, with us as friends. But if something happened to you, especially now, I don’t know.  
>  Stilemeister007: Derek…I worry too. I worry about you. I worry about my dad. I worry about the whole pack all the time, and I get it, okay, I’m the human, but none of you are immortal, but is that it? I mean is that the one thing standing in our way?

Derek slammed his fist into the desk. This time, it did crack, and one splinter clattered noiselessly to the floor.

> **D. Hale** : No! You being human isn’t it. None of my family was human, and they managed to get killed just fine.  
>  Stilemeister007: It’s a risk. I know. I can see that…I didn’t mean it like that. I don’t…guess…I just meant…I don’t even know. I feel like we  
>  **D. Hale** : I was so worried. When the nogitsune had you. I tried to let you and Scott have your moment together but I wanted to be there. I…I thought I would lose you then. And that’s when I realized I couldn’t let that happen. Not to you. I’m supposed to protect you. You’re pack.

The word clattered onto the keyboard so quickly that Derek wasn’t sure he’d written it until he was reading back what he wrote, swallowing his pride.

> **Stilemeister007:** Derek…I think it’s worth the risk.

Derek sighed, weary in his bones. But his fight was gone. Stiles was going to ruin him.

> **D. Hale** : You always do. You and your half-cocked plans.  
>  **Stilemeister007** : Do you want me to drop this? I will. If that’s what you want. But don’t think for a second that I haven’t thought about it for a long time already.

Derek snorted.

> **D. Hale** : I told you, you were obsessive.  
>  **D. Hale** : It’s not that I want to drop it. I don’t. I…Care for and about you.

There. It was out. And then there was silence. Derek watched the computer screen intently, but there was no message that Stiles was typing, no change to show he’d gone offline. The worry turned to thinly veiled panic when finally, finally, there was a reply.

> **Stilemeister007** : All right. That’s. Okay. I care about you too. I care for you so much.

He’d probably fallen out of his damn computer chair. Derek chuckled at the thought.

> **D. Hale** : Remind me to kiss you the next time you’re in town.  
>  **Stilemeister007** : Oh my GOD, Derek you can’t just say that. I need to be there now. Right now. Kissing should happen immediately.

Derek looked out the window. The rain had slowed to the consistency of a leaky faucet, and the sun was just starting to peek up from behind the mountains. Derek checked the time. 4:33 am.

> **D. Hale** : What is it they say? Absence makes the heart grow fonder.  
>  **Stilemeister007** : No, no, they are stupid. I…can come this weekend. I can come tomorrow. I don’t have a class tomorrow. I can come right now.

“Stiles,” Derek said aloud in a strangled, tortured voice.

> **D. Hale** : Stiles.  
>  **Stilemeister007** : I could be there in like 45 minutes.  
>  **D. Hale** : Stiles…  
>  **Stilemeister007** : Ha! You can’t even say no!

He had a point. No was the last thing he wanted to say.

> **D. Hale** : The thunder stopped. For now. I’m going to go to bed now and sleep like a real adult should.  
>  **D. Hale** : But I wouldn’t mind if, when the thunder started again, there was someone with me if it wakes me up.

Derek stretched, pulled off his t-shirt in one long motion, and cracked his back.

> **Stilemeister007** : Awesome. Yes.  
>  **Stilemeister007** : I’m there.  
>  **D. Hale** : I know you still have a key. Even after I told you to destroy it.

The rave in Derek’s loft was still a tender subject.

> **Stilemeister007** : I do. Mmhm.  
>  **D. Hale** : You’re ridiculous.  
>  **Stilemeister007** : You like it. I’ll see you soon. Promise to not wake you climbing in bed.  
>  **D. Hale** : I wouldn’t mind if you did.  
>  **Stilemeister007** : Maybe I will, then.  
>  **D. Hale** : Just…drive safe, okay? I know you think that damn jeep is invincible, but the roads are just this side of flooded.  
>  **Stilemeister007** : I’ll be safe. I’ll drive 5 miles under the speed limit and everything.

Lies, Derek knew, but he appreciated the gesture all the same.

> **D. Hale** : Okay, then.  
>  **D. Hal** e: Good night, Stiles.  
>  **Stilemeister007** : Good night, Derek.


End file.
